The Imperial Invasion of Westeros
by Darth Lego Master
Summary: Winter is coming... And it doesn't come from beyond the Wall, but from beyond the stars. The Galactic Empire has come for Westeros and its people: will they bend the knee or rise up to resist these new players? (Rated M for language and some violence)
1. Chapter 1 - The Emperor's Task

**A/N: Well, here it is. My first fanfiction entry.**

 **I got the idea to write this after reading a similar fanfic,** _ **A Song of Ice and Fire Swords**_ **by Darthkvzn, so thanks to him for the inspiration!**

 **It's taken me a while to write the first two chapters, which is mostly just the Empire plotting, but we'll get to good stuff soon, don't worry. I am a first timer here, so reviews and criticism are welcome.** __

 **Enjoy! (P.S. I don't own Star Wars or Game of Thrones)**

Chapter 1 – The Emperor's Task

Admiral Piett walked onto the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer _Executor,_ rubbing the bags under his tired eyes, the result of a sever lack of sleep. Two security troopers in sloping helmets saluted him as he approached. He returned the salute, trying to keep up his commanding posterior despite the extreme tiredness.

His second-in-command, Captain Scree, snapped to attention when he saw the man approach. "Admiral on deck!"

"At ease," Piett told the captain. "Anything to report, Captain?"

"All systems are functioning normally, sir."

"Any news of the rebels?"

Scree shook his head. "No, sir, there's been nothing back from any of our probe droids and the patrols have nothing to report."

Piett sighed and rubbed his temples. Ever since the rebels had evaded them on Cloud City, Lord Vader had had the entire fleet working around the clock to locate any trace of the Rebel Alliance, specifically Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia. They had scoured the Outer Rim territories for months, chasing false leads and red herrings. The crews had settled into a mundane routine of sitting and waiting for news, which Piett knew was bad for moral. All the while, Vader remained in his chambers, refusing to come out until they had found conclusive proof of the rebel's whereabouts.

"Keep the scanners on and report to me the minute you find anything," Piett ordered Scree. The Captain saluted the Admiral and walked away to perform his duty.

"If you ask me, the rebels are done for." Piett heard a snide voice from behind him. He knew who it was before he even turned around. General Veers was looking smugly pleased with himself as he always did. Also, the lack of bags under his eyes showed he had clearly been getting more sleep then Piett, much to the Admiral's annoyance. "We've seen them off," the General continued. "They're scattered across the Galaxy, leaderless, with their will to fight shattered."

Piett gritted his teeth. Veers had become so full of himself ever since his assault against the rebel base on Hoth had been a storming victory for the Empire. To make matters worse, Veers wasn't the one Darth Vader was displeased with. Piett had lived with the danger of invoking his wrath for losing the _Millennium Falcon._

"The rebels' will to fight may stronger than you anticipate, General," Piett stated bitterly. "I believe that they are biding their time, building up their forces until they are strong enough to attack."

Veers laughed in dry amusement. "An attack? More like suicide. They wouldn't dare attack a fleet this size with the forces they possess."

Piett felt his hands curl into fists. Veers' arrogance irritated him more every minute. "Need I remind you of the Battle of Yavin? Of how one – ONE – rebel fighter was able to bypass the Death Star's defences and destroy the Empire's ultimate weapon, resulting in the deaths of several prominent Officers, including Grand Moff Tarkin himself, and our most humiliating defeat to date."

Veers bristled at the Admiral's words, his smug look faded to be replaced by a scowl. "Tarkin was a fool! If he hadn't let the rebels escape with the stolen plans, they would have never found the station's weakness and exploited it! It was his own idiocy that lead to his fate."

"That is precisely why it is imperative that we find the rebels before they can regroup," Piett cut in. "If they can destroy something as large and powerful as the Death Star then they are a more capable advisory than we thought. Tarkin was foolish and arrogant, that much is true, and we can't afford to make his mistakes."

Veers' smug smile returned. "Then I suggest you find the rebels and fast, Admiral. Lord Vader is not a patient man after all."

Piett was about to respond to Veers' patronizing words when he was interrupted by Captain Scree. "Admiral, General! We are receiving a transmission from the Emperor," the Captain reported hastily. "He demands you and Lord Vader's prescience."

"Tell his Majesty we'll be we are on are way." Piett began walking off the bridge, Veers following suit.

The two Imperial Officers walked down the _Executor's_ metal corridors in an unconfutable silence. It was becoming apparent to Piett that even Veers' mere presence vexed him.

"Do you think the Emperor has news of the rebels?" Veers inquired.

Piett took a deep breath. Rebels. The very word now set his teeth on edge. That was all he had heard for the past few months, blasted rebels! He would happily take any other assignment the Emperor had for him if it meant he could stop hearing that accursed word!

They continued deeper into the bowls of the _Executor_ until they reached a door where Piett entered in the code. The door slid open reviling a dark chamber. A metallic, rasping voice addressed the two officers as they entered.

"You are late."

"My apologies, Lord Vader," was all Piett could manage.

Darth Vader stood in the chamber's centre, his towering figure looming over the Veers and Piett. Had it not been for his deep, low breathing, the two men may have been completely oblivious to his presence: in his black armour, flowing cap and skull-like mask, Vader was one with the shadows.

On the far wall of the chamber, the holographic figure of Emperor Palpatine flickered, dressed in his usual black robes with his hood concealing his face, leaving only his strange yellow eyes visible. The Admiral and the General knelt before the hologram in respect for the ruler of the Galactic Empire.

"Your Majesty," they said in union.

"Aries, Admiral, General." The Emperor's voice had all the warmth and comfort of dry old parchment. "I wish to offer my congratulations on driving the rebels from their base on Hoth."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Veers began but Palpatine cut him off.

"And my displeasure at your incompetence of letting their leaders escape you on Besbin!"

"Your Majesty, I can explain…" Piett tried but Palpatine interrupted him as well.

"I am not interested in your excuses, Admiral!" the Emperor sneered. Piett reminded himself to hold his tough. "Thanks to you the rebels and their leaders have fled into the outermost regions of the Galaxy."

"I understand, your Majesty, but we are doing everything possible to track them down. Our probe droids are scouring all systems with known attachments to the rebellion and our ships on high alert."

"And what do you have to show for all your work, Admiral?" Vader rasped. "Nothing. My master is very displeased."

Piett remained silent. He glanced over at Veers, who's look of fear mirrored his own. Vader moved closer and pointed a leather clad finger at them. "If it were my decision, neither of you would be standing here at this moment." The threat was clear in the Sith's voice.

"You are quite right, Lord Vader," the Emperor said suddenly. "It is not your decision. That is why the Admiral and General have another chance to redeem themselves. As do you."

Vader didn't respond to Palpatine's last remark. He just stood, reminiscing on how he allowed Luke Skywalker to escape him. He knew his master was displeased by this. Furthermore, his son had been within his grasp and Vader had foolishly let him get away, making him cures himself for giving into his feelings. That must not – would not – happen again.

Finally, Vader turned back to the hologram of the Emperor and bowed. "Yes, my master."

A yellow toothed grin split the Emperor's face. "Good, good. Now, are you ready for your next task?"

Piett and Veers nodded. Vader remained silent.

"Excellent." Beside the Emperor a second hologram appeared, this one of a star system that consisted of a sun and a lone planet orbiting it. "Do any of you recognize this system?"

Piett, who was familiar with the star charts of the many systems of the galaxy, shook his head. "No, your Majesty. What is its name?"

"It has no name. Our astrologers have only just discovered it. It is located on the very edge of the Unknown Regions, far from any greatly populated systems. From what little we know, it is inhabited by a low-class civilization who have not yet developed space travel."

"And what importance is some backwater world like this to the Empire, your Majesty?" Veers asked.

"This planet will form the foundation of a new military compound, dedicated to a new weapons program currently under development by Imperial Intelligence. The planet's seclusion makes it the perfect place to operate without interference from the rebellion.

"This is your mission: capture the planet and subjugate its people, in the name of the Empire. You will be granted five legions of Stormtroopers, your flagship the _Executor,_ as well as four other Star Destroyers of your choice. The rest of the fleet is needed to continue the search for the rebels. I have already forwarded the coordinates to your navigation computers. Go now, and prepare."

Veers and Piett bowed and left the chamber to carry out the Emperor's instructions, leaving Darth Vader alone with his master. "Lord Vader, I sense frustration within you. Tell me what is wrong, my friend."

"My master, although I could not capture Skywalker, I swear I will not fail you this time." Vader felt his anger boiling inside of him. Good. He would unleash his rage upon the people of this new world. It and its people would feel the full might of the Empire and the Dark Side.

"Rest assured, Lord Vader, I have complete faith in your power," Palpatine said with another toothy smile. "Now go."

As the hologram of his master faded, the Sith Apprentice strode back towards the bridge, eager as ever to please his Emperor.


	2. Chapter 2 - Strategizing

Chapter 2 – Strategizing

As soon as the Emperor's orders had been given, Piett commanded the fleet to disband. The only Star Destroyers to remain with them were the _Avenger,_ the _Torrent,_ the _Devastator_ and the _Eliminator._ Once the Emperor's coordinates had been sent to the ships, the small armada made the jump to light speed, coming to a stop on the edge of the Unknown Regions.

Their first sight of the planet they were to conquer appeared through the _Executor's_ viewpoint as they exited hyperspace. Piett and the rest of the bridge crew stared in awe as the gigantic sphere of shifting colours hung before them in the blackness of space. Its landmass was divided into two continents: the west was covered in green with a snow caped top, while the east was home to vast stretching deserts. Piett had seen many planets during his time in the Imperial Navy but this one was different somehow. He supposed it was just the pure mystery of the place, an undiscovered land, untouched and unspoiled, waiting to revel its secrets to the Empire. The thought gave Piett a small shiver of excitement. But the Admiral knew better than fantasizing. He had a mission.

Once all four ships arrived, Piett ordered the Star Destroyers' captains and all superior army officers on board to the _Executor's_ bridgefor a briefing. Within minutes, the Imperials stood around the bridge's holotable. Piett took his place next to General Veers and cut right to the chase.

"I take it you have been briefed on the Emperor's instructions?" The officers nodded in reply. "Good."

The Admiral gestured to a black plated protocol droid who activated an image of the planet in the middle of the holotable. "We have been tasked to capture this planet for a new weapons program. From what we know it has a primitive society with no advanced technology. Pulse wave scans tell us that the landmass is split into two densely populated continents, equalling to a population of fifty-five million. If we are to complete our mission, we must work out our strategy." Piett turned to address Veers. "General, what is the status or our troops?"

"Five legions, totalling to sixty-four thousand Stormtroopers, plus a full division of AT-ATs supported by AT-STs and hover tanks," the General reported. "As well as fifty heavy cannons for artillery support and two mobile HQs for base operations."

"Sixty-four thousand men to subjugate fifty-five million people?" one of the captains inquired. Piett recognised him as Captain Vernon, who had replaced the late Captain Needa as commander of Star Destroyer _Avenger._ "Even with all our men and weaponry this will be no easy task."

"Primitives armed with little more than sticks, most likely," another captain put in. It was Captain Senlac of the Star Destroyer _Devastator._ "They'll be no match for Imperial Stormtroopers."

"It is not their capabilities that are an immediate threat, Captain Senlac," Veers told the man. "We will be stretching our troops thin to police a population that size. Which is why we must demonstrate a grate show of force once we land, to brake the natives will and drive them to a permeant state of fear. Admiral, may I?"

Without hesitation, Piett stepped aside to let Veers fully take up the briefing. They had discussed earlier that it was probably best for Veers to handle all ground operations. Piett felt somewhat relieved: being further away from the action meant being further away from Lord Vader. The Admiral suddenly realized that Vader hadn't joined them. He saw the Dark Lord staring out of the viewpoint at the planet, oblivious to the ship's ensigns working around him, as if the planet had some kind of hypnotic hold over the great warrior. Piett concluded that Vader would join them in his own time and returned his attention back to the briefing.

The 3D hologram of the planet had been replaced by a flat image of the two continents. The General continued. "Here is my plan: The eastern continent is sparsely populated, nothing but hostile deserts for miles. The western continent has a more tolerable environment, with more resources available to us. So, we land on the northern regions of the western continent while our ships launch aerial bombardments on the east and south. Once our base is established we will deploy our forces across the planet to subdue any survivors."

"General, if I may interject." All eyes turned to a young man wearing the black uniform of a Stormtrooper Corps. officer. His uniform bore the rank indicator of colonel. "As we know nothing of this world, doesn't it make sense to secure the cooperation of the natives. Just bombing the populace won't guarantee that. If anything it will make them resent us even more."

Veers was stunned. He was clearly not used to having anyone speak against him, least of all his own officers. And here he was, being talked up to by an officer who look so young he could only have been out of the Imperial Academy for two years.

"Are you suggesting we work with these savages?" Captain Senlac demanded.

"Of course not!" the young man shot back. "But maybe we can get them to work for us."

"A sound notion, Colonel." Everyone jumped with at start at that rasping voice. Darth Vader had joined them at last. "Getting these primitives help would be most beneficial."

"Thank you, Lord Vader." The young officer bowed his head in thanks.

All officers around the holotable were stunned to silence. Darth Vader, the great and powerful enforcer of the Empire and its Emperor, who was infamous for killing a man over the mildest of inconveniences, had just agreed with a lowly officer. They all paused to take in this miracle. Piett took this time to study this young man. He was of medium height, with straight facial features and piercing blue eyes. Despite his youth, he stood with the air of authority usually displayed by an officer ten years his senior.

"What is your name?" Vader asked, breaking the silence.

"Zellaby, my Lord. Colonel Jan Zellaby."

Vader slowly nodded in acknowledgment. "You may continue, General," he suddenly said to Veers.

"Ah… of course. Where was I? As Colonel Zellaby pointed out, acquiring the natives help may be of benefit to us." He fixed Zellaby with a cold glare as he spoke. "Therefore we will postpone bombing until we have established a strong foot hold. As for landing on the planet…"

"I will take charge of the first wave," Vader interrupted. Veers did not dare respond. "One Star Destroyer will enter the atmosphere with an advance force. General Veers, you will take charge of the walkers and tanks. Colonel Zellaby, you will command the ground troops." Veers' glare became more envious as the colonel accepted his duty. Vader continued, pointing at a spot on the southern area of the western continent that scans had identified as some kind of city. "This is where we will make our land. A strong show of force in a populated area will let these primitives know not to cross us." He turning to one of the four captains. "And your Star Destroyer will be the one to lead our attack, Captain Yareli."

The only female officer around the holotable stepped forward. She looked to be in her early thirties and was very tall, at least six foot ten. Under her officer's kepi her blonde hair was tied into a tight bun. A jagged scar covered her left cheek, making her otherwise pretty face look fierce. Her eyes possessed a steely look that indicated she was not to be crossed. "As you command, Lord Vader," she responded with a click of her heels.

"Admiral, have a TIE fighter squadron make a reconnaissance flight of the planet," Vader issued his next order to Piett before addressing his officers. "Go and prepare! Move!"

As the assembly dispersed on the Dark Lord's command, Piett noticed Veers still staring after Colonel Zellaby. Something about the young man had obviously gotten under the General's skin. Pulling out of his thoughts, Piett turned to Captain Scree. "Launch a squadron. Tell them to find a suitable place to land."

"Yes, sir," Scree responded sharply.

Leaving his second-in-command, Piett joined Darth Vader, who had returned to the viewpoint. Veers soon joined them. Together, the three Imperials looked upon their new world.

The Empire had arrived.

And soon, this world would bow to them.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Behemoth from the Sky

**A/N: Right, I haven't been happy with how the story was going, so I'm doing some rewriting. Sorry for any inconvenience but I want set the story during the War of the Five Kings. I've been really happy with the all the reviews and correspondence I've been getting, especially from animefan29 for pointing out plot holes.**

 **I still don't own Star Wars or Game of Thrones; all original content is mine.**

Chapter 3 – The Behemoth from the Sky

Tyrion Lannister could not sleep. He tried to drift off, but all the time he was aware of the empty space in his bed beside him. He longed for Shea's touch, but he knew they had to be careful after Cersei's threats. With a groggy moan, the dwarf pulled himself out of bead. Still a little drunk from the wine he had supped with, he staggered to the window. The stinking city of King's Landing lay before him under a blanket of stars. A few lights shined in the windows of the inn's and whore houses that lay in the heart of the city. Tyrion smirked and reached of the wine flagon on his table.

As he poured himself a drink, he thought he heard a strange, high-pitched screech. He looked back out the window but saw nothing but the but the starry night sky. Dismissing it as a fault of the wine, Tyrion went back to the window, drink in hand. He took a long sip, turning his head skyward as he did.

That's when he saw it.

It was hard to see in the darkness, but thanks to the moonlight, Tyrion thought he could make out something that resembled a ball between two metal panels _flying_ over the castle. Flying like the Targaryans of old astride their mighty dragons. He shook his head, making sure the wine hadn't gone to his head again. But no, the thing was still racing across the sky with more speed Tyrion had ever believed possible.

Then, just as he was over this miracle, another, identical thing appeared over the tower.

And then another.

And another.

And another.

And another until the sky over King's Landing was filled with flying things, screeching like ravens and swarming like flies.

"Gods be good." Words Tyrion Lannister was not known to use.

Throughout the Red Keep, the sound of bells started to ring in alarm. Tyrion quickly changed from his robe into a tunic and breaches. He was about to reach the door when he heard a new sound: a great, vibrating rumble. Tyrion rushed back to the window and looked up… and almost soiled himself.

It glided through the sky like a giant arrow head directly over the tower, a giant wedge-shaped behemoth that cast a mighty shadow over the Red Keep. Tyrion heard his cup shatter as he dropped it. For all the books he'd read, for all the old texts that spoke of the Others and dragons and wraiths he had poured over, nothing could have prepared Tyrion for what he was seeing right now.

He finally snapped out of his fixation when Bronn burst through the door. "My lord!" he gasped. For the first time, Tyrion actually saw fear in the man's face.

"Bronn, gather the City Watch."

"The City Watch? Against that monstrosity? You've taken leave of your senses, my Lord!"

"Just do it!" Tyrion barked.

Bronn blinked twice before he finally dashed from the room. Before following the former sellsword, Tyrion gave the behemoth one last look. It had stopped in mid-air and hung like a dark cloud over the city. He would die before admitting it to Cersei, but something about it scared him. The dwarf hurried out of the room with as much urgency as his stubby legs allowed.

Had he stayed longer, he might have seen the several metal birds that were flying out from the behemoth's underside…

 **Just a short chapter to start us off. But first a question to all my followers: who do you want to see killed off and who should survive and why?**


	4. Chapter 4 - The City of Kings

**A/N: I don't own anything; all original characters are mine.**

Chapter 4 – The City of Kings

Zellaby stepped from the Sentinel landing craft surrounded by a squad of his own hand-picked men. He had changed from his black duty uniform into his armour, which bore the blue markings of a Stormtrooper commander. The young colonel took moment to acknowledge the _Victory_ -class Star Destroyer _Eliminator_ that loomed over them. Its smaller size made it more effective for atmospheric flight than the _Imperial_ -class. The thought of these primitives witnessing a vessel of such size and power filled Zellaby with confidence. Lord Vader was up there right now, no doubt over seeing the landing with Captain Yareli.

Before departing, it had been decided that Zellaby would command the advanced landing force while General Veers landed outside the city walls with their heavy armour and mobile base. Thirty landing crafts had been dispatched from the _Eliminator_ , with sixteen thousand Stormtroopers at Zellaby's command. Aside from ground troops, a few troop transports and AT-STs had been deployed for light armour support.

Their ships had landed in the centre of the city, barely able to fit in the tight nit streets once the wings had folded, taking down some of the houses as they landed. As expected, the buildings were of a low base design: held together with wooden beams and thatched roofs. The streets where cobbled and covered in mud and excrement.

They had entered what looked like a market place judging by the stalls selling fish, fruits and other goods that lined the streets. Not for long though, as the Stormtroopers kicked down doors and upturned carts to find any hiding civilians. Lord Vader had given orders to round up the local populace, saying they could either declare their allegiances or die.

"How many prisoners?" Zellaby asked his second-in-command, TK-516.

"A few hundred," TK-516 replied. "That's just in this district. We've estimated there could be over a million people in this city alone."

"Order the patrols to spread out," Zellaby acknowledged. "I want every street, house and back ally of this city searched."

"Yes, sir."

The civilians Zellaby's men had captured had been herded into the market area. Forming a coral around the crowd were Riot Stormtroopers. Zellaby had requested they be deployed to handle any unrest within the populace. Now they stood in circular formation around the crowd with their electro staffs at the ready.

"Any resistance?" Zellaby asked the riot sergeant.

"None, sir," the sergeant said monotonously. Zellaby nodded and began inspecting his prisoners.

Most of the men, women and children were wearing dirty woollen garments, probably hand stitched, and shoes made from boiled leather. Several women wore only thin silk gowns and jewellery. All of them looked positively terrified of the Imperial troops. One woman even screamed when an AT-ST clanked passed. Zellaby couldn't say he was surprised: in his time in the Stormtrooper Corps he had encountered a few primitive civilisations. Meeting a culture with advanced technology and weapons was always a frightening experience. Not that the Empire wasn't used to using fear as a means of control.

"Sir," said the sergeant. "We don't have enough troops to police so many prisoners."

Zellaby noticed a few men wearing a crude form of armour that consisted of metal plating over a shirt of interlocking rings. Each of these men's armour was adorned with a gold cloak, making Zellaby suspect they held some kind of authority. "Perhaps they just need some reassurance."

With quick intuition, he pointed at one of the gold cloaks. "Bring him here." Two riot troopers dragged the man from the crowd. His craggy, bristly face looked just as afraid as the others as he was brought face-to-mask with Colonel Zellaby.

"Do you hold any authority over these people?" Zellaby demanded.

"I… I… I do," the man stuttered. He spoke Galactic Standard Basic but with a slight dialect. "I am a man of the City Watch."

Zellaby stepped forward, prompting the man to struggle slightly in fear, but the Riot Troopers held him firmly. "What city?"

"King's Landing," the man said.

"King's Landing?" Zellaby repeated.

"Aye, the city of the King."

"And the City Watch answers to the King?" Zellaby tilted his head questioningly. When the gold cloak nodded, Zellaby asked, "Where is the King?"

"In the Red Keep! I'll take you there, just… by the Seven, who are you?"

Zellaby didn't say anything. Instead he activated the speaker system on his helmet and climbed on top of a parked troop transport.

"PEOPLE OF KING'S LANDING!" His amplified voice boomed through the street, provoking panic from the crowd. "AS OF TODAY, THIS CITY IS UNDER THE DURISTICTION OF THE GALACTIC EMPIRE! IF YOU COOPERATE WITH OCCPYING FORCES, YOU WILL LIVE! ANY RISITENCE WILL BE MET WITH YOUR DESTRUCTION!"

There were more screams and panic as the crowd started to move. The pulsing throng threatened to burst free but a few jabs from the riot troopers' electro staffs brought them under control.

"WE ARE HERE TO CLAIM THIS PLANET FOR OUR EMPEROR!" Zellaby continued, his speaker drowning out any cries of pain. "YOU WILL BECOME CITIZENS OF THE EMPIRE! YOU WILL BE PROTECTED UNDER OUR LAWS AND FREE TO SERVE HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY!"

By now, the crowd had quietened down and were listening in trepidation. _Now we're getting somewhere,_ Zellaby thought. He was about to speak again when he felt a rock strike the side of his helmet. It landed with _clunk_ on the top of the transport. Zellaby picked up the rock and looked in the direction it had been thrown.

Tucked between two of the buildings, a man was trying to hustle a young boy away from the street. The man was clearly scolding his son, who Zellaby guessed had thrown the rock. "Get in the house boy!" the father was saying. Behind them, a woman clutching a small baby stood in a doorway. She ushered in the boy as the father called out to Zellaby, "We don't want you here, whatever in seven hells you are! We've had it bad enough with the bloody Lannisters, that cursed Imp and that brother-fucker Queen! We just wanna be left in peace."

The minuet the man had followed his family inside, Zellaby snapped his head towards TK-516 who motioned two troopers forward with a hand signal. The four men took up position in front of the house, aiming their chunky weapons at the defenceless dwelling. Zellaby heard more people scream when four streams of fire burst from the weapons' muzzles, spraying the house in flames. Within seconds, the fire had engulfed the entire house, the orange flames illuminating the night. The crowd watched in stunned silence as the cries from inside echoed and eventually faded.

"AND LET THAT BE A LESSON!" Zellaby boomed after the fire had been put out and the Incinerator Troopers had cleared the area. He deactivated his speakers and leaped off the transport. "Now," he said to the terrified gold cloak, "take us to your King."

* * *

Hight above the primitive city of the primitive land, the Dark Lord of the Sith watched his forces at work. Darth Vader had heard General Veers' report and was now awaiting news of Colonel Zellaby and whatever information he was able to obtain.

Out across the horizon, the dawn was starting to break as yellow light drove away the darkness to reveal the city. It was situated on the shores of a mighty ocean that stretched out far to the curvature of the planet. A high stone wall ran a ring around the boundaries of the city until it came back to a great castle built from red bricks that dwarfed the streets below. Vader might have been impressed, if he hadn't seen more impressive engineering feats on the more savage worlds like Genosis and Felucum.

"My Lord," he heard Captain Yareli say behind him. "I have Colonel Zellaby's report. He has encountered no resistance and his men are rounding up civilians for questioning."

"No resistance was to be expected," said Vader. "What has the Colonel been able to gather in regard to the city?"

"The natives call the city King's Landing," Yareli read from the report. "It serves as the capital city of the 'Seven Kingdoms of Westeros'. The city is defended by a militia called the City Watch. The Watch give their allegiance to whoever is the present King."

"Where do we find the King?"

"He resides in the castle called the Red Keep."

Vader spun around, cape billowing, and faced Yareli with his hands resting on his hips. "Captain, prepare my shuttle. I wish to see this King for myself."

"At once, my Lord."

Yareli saluted sharply and walked briskly from the bridge. She had gone ten paces when Vader called, "Captain! You will be accompanying me."

"Accompanying you?" Almost to Vader's surprise (and amusement) the captain was shocked. "But, surly I'm needed here? We still haven't finished unloading and if anything happens to me…"

"Your crew can manage for an hour or two. You have nothing to fear from theses primitives." In just three strides, Vader was towering over the woman. "And that was not a request," he glowered.

Yareli eventually nodded reluctantly. "Very well, my Lord. I will prepare my shuttle."

"You will be traveling in my shuttle," Vader insisted. "We will leave immediately."

Yareli's expression told Vader she knew better than to argue. "Lieutenant Jana, you have the bridge," she said to her small and petite executive officer.

Wishing to waste no more time, Vader lead the captain from the bridge in great strides. It was time to greet this 'King' and his 'Seven Kingdoms'.

 **Questions.**

 **What meeting between which characters are you excited for?**

 **What do you think of my OCs?**


	5. Chapter 5 - The Black Demon

**A/N: Sorry again for the VERY long wait on uploads. Still, thanks for all the support. You guys have been my main motivation for continuing this story. Keep the reviews coming. I'm going to try and upload sooner. Enjoy!**

 **I own nothing, only this story and OCs.**

Chapter 5 – The Black Demon

With Bronn, Podrick and two gold cloaks on his heels, Tyrion made hast towards the throne room as fast as his stubby little legs would permit.

"I'm telling you, my Lord," Bronn was saying, "the city is in chaos. The men are talking of white ghouls with weapons that spit fire."

Tyrion didn't reply. He was still trying to figure out exactly what was happening. Fist a great behemoth appears in the sky, and then King's Landing is suddenly in flames. It was all so incredible. Just who in the Seven Hells were these strangers! They come out of the sky and seized the city that Aegon Targaryen built long ago like it was a simple village! Refusing to let himself succumb to fear and panic, Tyrion's rational mind started making up possible explanations. Had they come from beyond the wall? Some ancient people that pre-dated the First Men, or even the Others? Perhaps some distant land out past the furthest reaches of Essos? What little westerners knew of the east made it seem plausible. Or, the most disturbing theory of all, that they had come from somewhere beyond the understanding of any mortal man. From the star, perhaps? The thought made Tyrion Lannister feel smaller than ever.

When they reached the room where the great Iron Throne, it was crowded with gold cloaks, red Lannister guards and white cloaked Kingsgaurd. They stood around a small crowd of lesser lords and ladies, all madly demanding to know what was happening. King Joffrey was sitting upon the throne while his mother stood to his left and the Hound to his right. The small council was also present. Grand Maester Pyscell, Varys and Littlefinger where all in the process of yelling useless advice at the young King, who seemed to be more confused than anyone right then.

"The Others take you all, one at a time!" Cersei yelled over the ruckus.

"These monsters have been sent by the gods to destroy us," one hysterical septon screamed. "A blight on us all for our waring and whoring ways!"

There was a chatter of agreement that Maester Pyscell woefully attempted to quell. "Now, please… let us not be hasty…" The old man clambered but tripped over his own robes.

Tyrion decided it was time to take charge. "Listed up," he shouted with all the authority he could muster. "Whatever is happening here is most unnerving indeed, I admit, but what matters now is not why it is happening: what are we going to do about it?"

"Are you proposing we fight back against these strangers?" Littlefinger sounded afraid, but Tyrion noticed the slight amusement his voice.

"I think fighting is out of the question, my Lord," said Bronn matter-of-factly. "With all due respect, my Lords and Majesty, I think Lord Tyrion is suggesting that we get the fuck out of here."

"Thank you, Bronn. It's nice to know someone around here can keep up."

"And how do you propose we do that," Cersei demanded.

"I believe this is Lord Varys' area of expertise." Tyrion gestured towards the uniqu, who was looking oddly unconfutable for once.

All eyes were on the Spider. "There are several passages under the castle that run through the sewers," he said at last, a nervous edge in his voice. "They lead to Blackwater below. We can sneak out and use the boats."

"And go where?" Cersei glared knives into Varys. "Dorn? Highgarden? Dragon Stone? Our enemies surround us in the south while our armies are fighting the wolves in the north!" She turned her cold gaze to her little brother. "I'm not risking my children on such a foolish excursion. We'd be dead within three days, either at the hands of bandits or sickness. That is if we aren't sold to King Robb!"

"You really think we have a better chance if we stay here!" Tyrion shot back. "If we can successfully get away we can head north and join up with father."

"I will not go running to my father like some frightened girl!"

"And a king dose not run!" Joffrey joined his mother. "I will stay and fight for my throne."

 _We have no time for this,_ Tyrion thought. Cersei's stubbornness would be the death of them all. "Varys, take some men and start getting everyone out through the sewers."

As the Spider and a few gold cloaks began rounding up the lord and ladies to lead them from the throne room, and Cersei and Joffrey began descending from the Iron Throne, Tyrion realised something. "Where is Lady Sansa?"

"Under guard in her chambers, my Lord," a Kingsguard knight told him.

"Then get her down here, man! She could be vital if we run into any Stark men…"

 _BOOM!_

The loud sound that echoed from beyond the big wooden doors caused the entire throne room to fall silent. Tyrion realised something dreadful: whoever or whatever they were, they were already here. It was too late.

The silence continued as long seconds scrapped by. A few women whimpered, while the guards had their swords and spears drawn and readied for whatever was coming through those doors.

Then the unimaginable happened.

The heavy, thick wooden doors where _lifted_ off of their hinges, as is moves by an invisible giant's strong hands. Breaths were bated as the doors glided forward. Once they were a few feet from the doorway, those slabs of oak were thrown to either side of the room like a child's toy they are bored with, and hit the wall, splintering in a loud crash. There were screams and shouts and begging the Seven for salvation, but they were soon silence when they saw what stood on the threshold of the doorway, shrouded at first in a cloud of dust.

Two meters tall.

As black as night from head to foot.

Its body wrapped in a flowing cape.

Its head covered by a strange helm that sloped out to the sides of a hideous, skull-like mask with two black orbs for eyes.

A strange rasping, scraping sound was emanating from the shape, like nothing Tyrion had ever heard before. It sounded almost like…. Breathing?

The shape surged forward with immense thrusts of two long legs. Cape parted slightly revealing a wide torso covered in some kind of armour that wasn't metal but a shiny black, smooth material and didn't clank when it moved that Tyrion couldn't begin to place. There was also a small cylinder-shaped object hanging from the shape's belt that reminded the dwarf of a sword hilt without a cross guard.

Tyrion noticed that the court had gone deathly silent. The septon who had warned them of their doom had dropped to his knees, praying to the Seven for salvation. The red cloaks and gold cloaks formed a tighter ring around the whole court, their spears poised at the black robed figure who continued its advance. A Kingsguard knight (it might have been one of the Kettlebacks, Tyrion wasn't sure) stepped forward. "Halt, Demon! In the name of King Joffrey Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms…"

The room gasped in horror as the stranger took the cylinder from its belt and what could only be described as a blade of crimson red flame blossomed from the tip. Tyrion's mouth dropped. The bade was swung, slicing right through the knight's neck like a knife through _mist_. The helmeted head fell with a clunk and the body soon joined it.

"KILL IT!" Joffrey screamed. "Don't just stand there. KILL IT!"

What happened next was a complete blur to Tyrion. A gold cloak lunged forward with his spear: a mistake, as the Demon sidestepped the weapon and brought the crimson blade upwards in a slashing motion, severing the man's arms. A second guard went at it with a sword, but the Demon sidestepped again and buried the crimson blade in his chest. A third swiped his sword, but the steel blade was cut in two by the fire sword. The Demon reached out a gloved hand and the man began chocking and clutching at his throat as some unseen force denied him air. That same force lifted him off his feet and flung him against the wall, snapping every bone.

A red cloak was the next to go, followed by another, then three more gold cloaks and a second knight. The Demon moved with flawless precision as more men piled in until the space around them became a cluster of arms and swords, most of which quickly went flying in lethal crimson streaks. When three came at once, the Demon performed the same chocking trick, lifting them up and throwing them aside like some child's doll. Within minutes, every guard, red cloak, gold cloak and Kingsgaurd, had fallen to the ground, either dead or dying.

As the very last man fell, the Demon stood in a sea of severed limbs and dying men. Joffrey, wide eyed, shacking and clutching his mother, turned to the only protection he had left. "Dog, what are you waiting for? Attack!"

But the Hound didn't move. He was transfixed by the Demon's crimson blade which glowed like fire. Raw fear had appeared in Sandor Clegane's face.

"Dog!" the boy king yelled again, panic raking his voice. "Y-you are Kingsguard. A-as your k-king…"

"Fuck the Kingsguard," Sandor said suddenly, shocking the boy king. "And fuck the king."

And with that, the Hound threw down his axe and dashed from the room, right past the Demon, who surprisingly paid no mind. Once the former sworn shield had gone, the crimson blade melted back into its hilt with a strange _zip_ sound and the two black orbs scanned the room until they found a young boy with golden hair desperately trying to hide himself behind his mother's skirts.

"So, you are the King." The Demon's voice sounded completely alien to Tyrion. It was so deep no human throat could possibly emanate it. Like everything else, it exuded threat and foreboding. "A frightened child hiding behind his mother." The black figure took a step forward, the court scurrying off to hide in the corners, giving the creature full route to Joffrey and Cersei. "Such a pitiful sight."

As the Demon drew nearer, dozens of ghastly figures in strange white armour began filing into the throne room. Cersei and Joffrey braced themselves. But it wasn't them the Demon was focused on. Instead, it walked right past them and right up to the Iron Throne itself. After it had ascended the steps the of the raised dais, it turned around, looming over the entire throne room.

"Your city has fallen to the Galactic Empire," that baritone voice boomed, directed at Joffrey. "Your guards have been defeated and your people imprisoned. It would be unwise to attempt to defy us." The Demon pointed a gloved hand at the cowering king. "You will submit to us and give us your loyalty. Your kingdom and its resources will become the Empire's."

When Joffrey didn't respond, the Demon gestured for two of the white armoured things to come forward and prised the king away from his mother. Cersei's screams of protest shook the throne room, ("NO! YOU WILL NOT HARM MY SON!") but they went ignored. She was dragged off to side while Joffrey, naked fear clear on the boy king's face, was hurled on his knees before the Demon.

"Look at me, boy!"

Joffrey timidly looked up with streaming eyes. The Demon took him in with those black orbs. Tyrion, for an absurd second, almost felt sorry for his nephew.

"You are no king!" the Demon roared. "And you are not worth my time. I demand to speak to a person of real authority!"

Before Tyrion knew what he was doing his mouth betrayed him. "I do!"

The Demon's orbs fixed their gaze on the dwarf. Tyrion felt his stomach shift under those phantom eyes, but he couldn't stop now. "I am Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King. I am willing to speak for his majesty." _What am I saying! Curse my mouth!_

Swallowing his fear, Tyrion waddled forward towards the towering Demon.

"You speak for the king?"

"Yes."

"And you understand what I have said?"

"Yes. Clearly and with the utmost regard."

"Very well, Tyrion Lannister. I believe you and I can reach an understanding." The Demon stepped down from the Iron Throne and made for the remains of the doors.

Tyrion nodded in agreement. He didn't intend to go any further, but his mouth slipped again. "And may I ask your name?" That, he was certain, would get him killed.

The Demon stopped. It stood as still as a statue for a moment, then faced Tyrion, who waited for the inevitable. But it didn't come. Instead the Demon declared loudly, "I am Darth Vader. And you would be wise not to test me."

Darth Vader took a moment to regard Tyrion Lannister. The dwarf was small and ugly, with stubby legs, a misshapen forehead and mismatched coloured eyes. Yet there was something about him that Vader found fascinating. While the rest of the court coward away in the corners from him and his Stormtroopers, while their king sobbed, the dwarf stood there, showing very little fear. If he was afraid, he was good at not showing it. He was small, but right then and there, Tyrion Lannister was a towering presence.

Vader marched back across the throne room, where Colonel Zellaby and Captain Yareli waited for him. "You have both done well."

"Thank you, Lord Vader."

"Contact General Veers and tell him to come at once. We have work to do."


	6. Chapter 6 - The Fate of Westeros

**A/N: I spent time making this chapter extra-long. I'm going to try and do that in-between the long uploads so you guys get as much content as possible.**

 **Until next time, enjoy!**

 **I own nothing expect this story and OCs.**

Chapter 6 – The Fate of Westeros

Lyra Wood was a Northern girl and a bastard. She had come to King's Landing with her younger sister, Merrin, from their home in the North after their father had died of a fever. He had once told her about how her true mother had been a woman from King's Landing and had on day promised to take Lyra there to find her. However, when they had arrived in the bustling city, Lyra had discovered that her mother had been a whore. Having used up the last of their coin on the journey, Lyra had agreed to work at the brothel in Flea Bottom where her mother had worked in while Merrin helped in the brothel's kitchen.

They had been there for only two weeks before they attack came.

Lyra had been seeing a man that night while Merrin had been sent out to fetch fresh bread. The man had been one of the City Watch, yet he was unshaven, squat and fat, with a stench of alcohol on his breath that made Lyra gag whenever he breathed next to her. When they had finished, he started downing the wine left on the bedside and would not stop boasting about how he had always preferred the Lannisters to the Starks, and how Lord Tywin was going to smash King Rob. Lyra, knowing better than not to challenge him, had quietly nodded in agreement.

But then she had heard shouts and panic from outside. Lyra had gone to the window and in the darkness, she saw folk running in panic through the streets. The next moment, Merrin burst into the room and ran right into her sister. Lyra had been shocked by the terror in her sister's tearful eyes.

The gold cloak, confused by this, made his way to the door, but the door was suddenly kicked open like someone had taken a small battering ram to it. The gold cloak had been hurled back as two figures in strange white armour were revealed. Lyra had hidden Merrin behind her, shielding her from these creatures. One of them approached them, pointing a black object at them which Lyra had no idea what it could be other than it held it like a crossbow.

"You're coming with us," the figure had said in a voice that sent chills down Lyra's neck.

Unsure how to respond, she stood there, trying to hide a frightened Merrin behind her back. After a few long seconds, the figure had eventually grabbed hold of Lyra's arm, while the other carried a wailing Merrin over its shoulder.

That was how they had ended up here, herded into the middle of a narrow street in Flea Bottom, surrounded on four sides by walls of blue light. Septons, steptas, whores, guardsmen, street urchins, craftsmen and traders were all crammed into that space, a cramped throng that had pushed Lyra and Merrin to the edge. Through the blue light, Lyra could see the things in white armour watching them, their black eyes observing the people in the square like animals in a pen.

"Shush, little one." Lyra was in the midst of trying to comfort her distraught sister when over Merrin's shoulder, she saw the gold cloak from her room approach the blue light wall. She wondered what had possessed him, because when he reached out to touch it, that was a flash like lighting, followed by the man's scream of pain and the gold cloak tumbled back into the herd of people. Lyra gasped when she saw his hand, blackened and charred like some crooked tree branch. The gaggle of people shifted in horror at the sight on the screaming gold cloak, clutching his claw by the wrist.

"By the Gods," she heard one man say horror. "What kind of magic have these demons brought upon us?"

" _Fuck_ you and your damn magic, you bastards!" the gold cloak with the burned hand screamed at the guards on the other side of the barrier.

"Up your arses!" another man yelled. "If you've got any arses."

A whore lifted up her skirts. "I wonder if they have cocks as well?"

Soon the air was full of vulgar shouts and taunts being directed towards the troopers. Lyra covered her sister's ears. The men confined in the square continued to bark, shake their fists and make rude gestures. And what amazed Lyra was that their captors remained completely stoic and silent. She had seen other men get riled by such taunts and start a fight, but these troopers continued to stand guard like they couldn't even hear.

She wondered what they were like under their helms. They had the shape of men but they didn't act like men. Was there even anything inside?

The taunts and gestures lasted for an hour before the people in the square realised it was for naught and stopped. Overhead, Lyra heard the screech of the strange flying machines that now regularly flew over King's Landing. She watched them zip over the rooftops until the disappeared behind the Red Keep on the horizon.

She briefly wondered how the king was reacting to this, then went back to comforting her sister.

* * *

Maximillian Veers was overseeing the final stages of deployment from the cockpit of his AT-AT. Ten of these heavy walkers had been dispatched planet side. Standing at 22 meters, they were the pride of the Imperial Military's ground forces and the embodiment of the Army's unstoppable might. Veers knew the potent effect the gargantuan beasts would have primitive mind, sending them scurrying in terror.

Outside the walker's cockpit, several dropships had skilfully landed and were unloading hundreds of troops and equipment. The landing site was a large stretch of land near the shores of a large bay.

The scouts had found dozens of stone castles in the surrounding area. Veers had ordered them seized immediately and their occupants placed under arrest. He was aware of the risk of spreading his troops out like this before they even had their HQ set up, but he hadn't been expecting any trouble from these primitives.

Veers heard the walker's holo-communicator beep. He answered and a hologram of a Stormtrooper captain came up on the cockpit's dash board. "Report," Veers said.

"General! My company has captured the last castle, sir," the captain reported. "The lord is in our custody."

"Well done, captain," Veers complimented the solider, like he had seen Lord Vader do with his men. "Carry on."

"Yes, sir." The captain's image vanished.

Veers nodded to himself. Things were going well so far. Lord Vader would be pleased.

"General, Colonel Zellaby's forces have taken the city, sir," an officer reported.

"Is that so." Of course, Zellaby had taken the city! These primitives were no match for Stormtroopers! It was to be expected. The boy had proven he could subdue one dirty city populated by people who could not hope to harm the Empire's forces! Hoorah! He deserved the Medal of Valour, First Class! "Anything else?"

"Yes, sir, Lord Vader requests your presence in the city, immediately."

Veers, knowing that when Darth Vader said immediately he meant _immediately,_ said, "Tell our commanders to continue deployment until all of our forces are on the ground. I want an HQ set up at this position. Peacekeeper." He showed the officer the coordinates of the Stormtrooper captain's last known location. "All units are to hold position until I return."

"Understood, sir," the officer saluted.

Veers made his way out of the cockpit and into the main belly of the walker. "And lay me on a transport with speeder bike escort," he called over his shoulder.

* * *

Captain Frazer Yareli was not accustomed to planet-side work, yet here she was, walking down a stone corridor lit with burning torches alongside Colonel Zellaby. She was still in her well pressed uniform while Zellaby was in full armour, carrying his helmet under one arm as was the common practice. Close behind them were three of Zellaby's own troopers. In the less than a day since they had arrived on this planet, Yareli noted how the young colonel was rarely seen without at least two of his men at his side.

"You know something, Captain," the Colonel said. "I thought you'd stay on the ship."

"Lord Vader wanted me to be present," Yareli replied. "Believe me, I would much rather be up there right now."

Zellaby said, "Lord Vader wouldn't drag you from your command to down here if he didn't have a good reason for it."

Yareli cocked an eyebrow. "You think so?"

"I think Lord Vader has a good reason for everything," said Zellaby.

Yareli couldn't help but agree. She was indifferent to most Stormtroopers, seeing them as little more than faceless manpower or cannon fodder, but there was something to like about Zellaby. He struck her as direct, logical, practical and loyal, qualities she herself held in high esteem. He was twenty years younger than her but talked and acted like he was on par with Yareli's own forty-seven years.

"What do you make of the natives?" she asked.

Zellaby shrugged. "You've read my report, haven't you?"

"Yes, but I wanted your own opinion. A soldier's opinion."

"Alright then." Zellaby rolled his head, making his fringe slide down his brow. He readjusted it then said, "They're a primitive lot. Superstitious. They have their gods they worship. They're easily frightened as well."

"Makes things easier for us then," Yareli added with a half simile.

"This is a big planet, Captain," Zellaby continued, casting a sideways glance at her. "They may not all be so humble. I had to burn an entire family alive for insubordination."

The nonchalant tone of that last statement gave Yareli a small chill. She was well aware of some of the more unpleasant methods the Empire was liable to use when dealing with traitors, she had even seen a good few first hand, but every time the person who had carried it out reported she could sense a tiny sliver of remorse in their voices. She got none of that from Zellaby.

"Here we are, Captain."

The small party had come to a stop outside a wooden door, identical to the hundreds of others in the castle, guarded by two more Stormtroopers. The sentries saluted the captain and the colonel.

"Lord Vader is expecting us," Yareli informed them sharply.

The troopers automatically swung the door open with a heavy creek. Inside, Lord Vader himself was waiting for them with General Veers at his side. They were standing next to a table, around which the small council was seated, comprising King Joffrey, King's Hand Tyrion, Queen Cersei, Lord Baelish, Lord Varys and Grand Maester Pyscell. Yareli tried her best not to look at them as she and Zellaby walked in (she noticed the way Veers' eyes coldly watched Zellaby) and took their places standing next to Lord Vader.

* * *

Tyrion could feel the tension around the council table as the two last Imperials entered the chamber and stood beside Darth Vader. He usually felt safe when Bronn was with him, but the commander of the City Watch had been relieved of his sword and when Tyrion looked up at him, the man looked desperate to be somewhere else.

He quickly glanced around that table at his fellow Weserosi. Joffrey's bright green eyes still harboured that fear Tyrion had seen in them when Vader had forced his way in. Cersei laid a hand on her son's shoulder, trying to give the boy reassurance, while on occasion, glaring up at the Imperials with all the fierceness and loathing she could muster.

Then there was Littlefinger and Varys, two men of great cunning and deceit. They were both schemers, Tyrion knew, but now they sat in their seats uncomfortably. Varys stared down at the table while Littlefinger had one hand clamped over his mouth. Their ashen expressions informed Tyrion, much to his surprise and curiosity, whatever plots they had been cooking up had just been dashed to pieces by the arrival of the Galactic Empire.

"We are ready to begin," Darth Vader's booming voice seized everyone's attention. He pointed at the map of Westeros and Essos that was laid out on the table. "I want to know everything about this kingdom."

Vader's gloved hand swept across the map, from the sandy scape of Dorne, over the Riverlands and the Reach, past the Neck, across the vastness of the North until in stopped over the snow-capped land beyond the wall.

The rest of the council failed to answer, so Tyrion cleared his throat. "By all means. This is the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. If you're after the entire history, I'm afraid it's one that cannot be explained in simple terms."

"Your history is unimportant," said Zellaby. "We want to know what is happening at this present time. Other nations, factions and any current conflicts."

Tyrion pulled at his thumbs and considered how much he should tell them. "Well you seem to have arrived at a rather," he paused, trying to pick his words carefully, "troubling time."

"Troubling how?" asked Yareli.

Tyrion decided to put it plainly. "We are at war." He waited for a response, but the mysterious people before him didn't change their expressions (not that that was an option in Vader's case) he continued. "King Rob Stark of the North has rallied his bannermen and marched on the South."

Vader brushed away Tyrion's words. "Your petty squabbles are of little concern. They will soon be coming to an end. That I can assure you."

"King Robb may disagree," said Tyrion. "The Young Wolf has yet to lose a battle."

"Then someone should teach him what defeat feels like," Veers scoffed.

"He is not the only pretender to my nephew's throne," Tyrion went on. "In the Stormlands, Renly Baratheon, the brother of our late King Robert, has declared himself king and is seeking aid from House Tyrell through marriage to their daughter Margery. The Greyjoys of the Iron Islands have declared themselves free from the North. And Renly's brother Stannis has declared himself King over in Dragonstone."

Zellaby studied the map. "Looks like you're your enemies have you surrounded. Don't you have armies?"

Tyrion wasn't surprised by Zellaby's patronising tone and tried to ignore it. "My father, Lord Tywin, the true Hand of the King, has taken most of our strength to march against Robb," he explained. "So far, he has beaten us at every turn and taken my brother prisoner." He saw Cersei tense up at the mention of Jaime.

Vader took a step forward to look at the map for himself. He took some time observing it then pointed at the lion figure head placed near Harrenhal. "I take it this is where your father is stationed."

"That is correct." Tyrion was puzzled at first by Vader's assumption, but then again, the Lannister lion adorned the Red Keep at this time, so it wasn't unreasonable that he had assumed correctly.

"And where would I find King Robb?" Vader asked.

Tyrion directed him to the wolf figurehead that sat on the Riverlands. "He is currently here after he smashed our siege of Riverrun."

"Are your sources reliable?" Vader demanded.

"Lord Varys is our Master of Whispers," Tyrion gestured to the Spider. "Ask him."

Sweat was making the light shine off of Varys' bald head as he slowly lifted it to meet the black eyes that loomed above him. "My… little birds inform me that the Young Wolf is indeed waiting at Riverrun with his armies."

Tyrion couldn't ignore the sharp snort that General Veers made when Varys brought up his little birds.

"What about down here?" Zellaby tapped the Stormlands where a stag figurehead was placed. "I take it this is where Lord Renly is marshalling his forces?"

"That is correct," said Varys. "My sources also say that Lord Stannis has travelled there to broker an agreement with his brother."

"If you want to stop them from squabbling," Tyrion put in solemnly, "I wouldn't put too much hope in. I doubt neither could be convinced not to take the crown."

Vader seemed to take this as a cue to turn to Zellaby and say, "Colonel, you will go to the Stormlands and confront Renly and Stannis. Bring them to King's Landing. They will bear witness to the Empire's authority."

"Yes, my Lord. And what if they refuse?"

"Then show them how the Empire deals with resistance." Vader punctuated his words with a figure jab at the Stormtrooper.

"As you wish, my Lord."

Vader addressed his next question to Tyrion. "I want you to send messages to all lords in the north and south. Tell them that the Seven Kingdoms belong to the Galactic Empire now. They can either serve us willingly or be annihilated."

"You said your father is the true Hand of the King," said Yareli. "I take it that he has the real authority."

Tyrion nodded. "He sent me here to rule in his stead."

"Will your father be willing to cooperate?" Yareli raised an eyebrow that pulled her scar up straight. Something about it unnerved Tyrion.

"My father is a proud and stubborn man. But I assure you he is no fool."

"Will he listen to you?"

Tyrion shrugged. "Only when he has no choice," he said bitterly.

"Good." Tilting his head down, Vader looked back to the wolf figurehead. "I will go and meet King Robb in person."

"Are sure that's wise, my Lord?" asked Veers, but when Vader abruptly rounded on the general, the expression of fear told Tyrion that he immediately regretted speaking.

"I am very sure, General," Vader rasped, making Veers go silent.

Then Vader turned his black orbed gaze to the one person at the table who wanted it the least: Joffrey.

"Captain Yareli."

Yareli snapped to attention.

"You will be responsible for the king and his mother. They will be held aboard the _Eliminator._ "

Tyrion wasn't surprised when he heard Cersei loudly proclaim, "I'm sorry?"

"I have a world to conquer," said Vader, snapping his head at her. "I cannot have your son's childish ways interfering."

"Now see here!" Cersei arose from her chair. "What right do you have to demand such a thing?"

"I don't think you appreciate the gravity of the situation, your Highness," Yareli said giving Cersei a stoic look.

"I'm not going!" Joffrey suddenly yelled, leaping to his feet and knocking his chair over. It landed with a clatter. "This is my castle, my kingdom! _I_ am King! _I_ sit on the Iron Throne like my father before me! You think you can take that from me? My grandfather and uncle will show you!"

Tyrion clenched his hands in frustration, wishing the little fool would shut his mouth before something bad happened.

In the midst of his yelling, Joffrey jabbed a figure at Tyrion. "And to insult us further, you seek council from the Imp?"

 _Damn you, Joffrey,_ Tyrion cursed his nephew.

"I want you out, do you understand? Out! I am the King and I will do as I pl…"

Joffrey's ramble was halted as his mouth frozen. The lump in his throat started to quiver and his eyes bulged.

"Joffrey?" said Cersei.

The boy tried to inhale but just made sickening squeal as he tried to suck in air. He was choking.

Tyrion was confused at first but then he saw the way Vader was holding the thumb and forefinger in a pitching motion and realised whatever power Vader commanded was being inflicted on Joffrey, who dropped to his knees, hands clawing at his neck.

Cersei rushed over to embrace her son. She glared up at Vader with a lioness' fierceness. "STOP!"

Vader did nothing and Joffrey collapsed onto his side.

"Please, stop!" Cersei's fierceness suddenly dissolved into helpless pleading. "I beg you, he is my son!"

Seconds passed as Joffrey writhed around in the arms of his powerless mother. Then, as Tyrion was sure Joffrey was on the edge of death, Vader released his finger and thumb. The boy king stopped writhing and began spluttering as he was once again able to breath.

"Captain Yareli," Vader said. "Escort these two to your shuttle."

Yareli motioned for two Stormtroopers to pick the king and queen off the floor and half drag them to the door.

"Wait!" Vader looked back at Tyrion. "Are their any other members of the royal family in the castle?"

"Only young Prince Tommen." Tyrion felt a pang of empathy for his younger, more innocent nephew.

Yareli nodded, seeming to already understand what Lord Vader wanted. She led her charges out of the room.

"There is one other thing," General Veers said, braking the unbearable silence. "We need access to your resources, so we need workers. Lots of workers."

"You can help yourself to our dungeons," Tyrion told him, still slightly shaken by Vader's display.

"We will also need the support of the City Watch. Can you guarantee that?"

Bronn gave a deep sigh and said, "Yes, ser, you can. Provided there's enough of them left."

"General, have you selected a commander to maintain the garrison here?" Vader asked before Veers could respond to Bronn's remark.

"I took some time to consider and Colonel Rarick was the most suitable candidate, my Lord," said Veers. "You can give him your full cooperation, I take it?" he added to what was left of the small council.

"Very good. I intend to leave for the Neck to meet King Robb as soon as possible. Colonel, how soon can you leave for the Stormlands?"

"Immediately if necessary, my Lord," Zellaby said very matter-of-factly.

"Then go." As the colonel left, Vader said to Veers, "General I want you to start marching your walkers north. Let the people know that the Empire is here."

"It would be my pleasure, lord Vader." Tyrion noted the arrogant smirk that Veers was failing to hide.

Vader gave his final address to the small council. "You have your instructions. Carry them out."

Taking only a nod from Tyrion as an answer, Darth Vader stomped out of the room with Veers at his heel.

Tyrion Lannister slouched in his seat, pulling at the collar of his tunic and letting out a deep sigh.

"Pyscell," he said. "I think you had best go and send those crows."

"Yes… yes I should," stuttered the Grand Maester as he clumsily stood up.

"Oh, and don't worry about the note for my father," Tyrion added. "I shall write it myself."

"Very good, my lord," Pyscell said as he left.

"Gods be good," Littlefinger muttered, burying his head in his hands.

Tyrion got down from his chair and went to pour himself a drink. He wondered over to the window. The sun had fully risen and out across King's Landing the sky was awash with the metal flying machines and the screeching and swooping noises rang in the dwarf's ears.

In just one night, the fate of Westeros had changed completely. This game of thrones so many were playing had just been radically altered. Tyrion just hoped that he had chosen wisely in aiding the invaders. Not that he had had much choice in the matter, nor would his father, or King Robb, or Renly or Stannis or the Greyjoys. Based on what he had experienced with the Galactic Empire so far, Tyrion supposed they were used to getting what they want.

Then, he had a thought. If Lord Vader was going to meet with King Robb and wanted the Starks support, maybe the Young Wolf would appreciate something being returned?

Tyrion nodded to himself and took a sip.

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